


Kindred Souls

by fairytalelovr



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-07-02 16:29:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15800316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairytalelovr/pseuds/fairytalelovr
Summary: As the entire realm converges to Harrenhall for the greatest event hosted in Westeros, several players work on multiple plots to dethrone the same king.Amidst all of that, love blossoms in the most improbable and unexpected of ways.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [toaquiprashippar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toaquiprashippar/gifts).



> Hello dearests and welcome to my first try at a modern AU in GoT/ASoIaF verse. This story follows the (adapted) story of the Tourney of Harrenhall.
> 
> Gifted to my amazing friend @toaquiprashippar, because we were both in a bad (which developed to bad flus) when the idea came to me and she wouldn't stop -- and still won't -- encouraging me. So cheers to her!
> 
> Also, she is the one who made the amazing moodboard, so kudos to her as well :)

 

Lyanna scrambled through the sandy path, getting away from the airplane wreckage as fast as her eight-month-along pregnancy allowed, cursing the ever-worsening turn the day was taking. Perhaps killing the pilot before he could safely land had been a bad idea, but the man had a manic look in his eyes, a scalpel in his hand, and an order to kill her son. So she had thrown the first thing she saw on him, hitting his head with some seat cushion and then she managed to wrestle his gun away from his hip holster and shot the whole seven-bullet clip on him. She was a pacifist, but when a crazy man threatened to cut your baby boy from your womb and slice both your throats violence was the only possible response. She then managed to get to the control cabin and clumsily find the knobs and buttons on the communication panel. That was when she read the GPS and realised she was in Dorne. There was only one safe place for her, as far as she knew, on the southernmost kingdom and she didn’t hesitate to press on there on the automatic pilot.

“This is the Command Tower at Starfall,” a bored voice sounded about an hour later, “state your identity and your business as you enter air space controlled by House Dayne.”

“This is the Princess of Dragonstone!” Lyanna nearly screamed through a contraction. “I have been kidnapped but took control of the plane. I ask for asylum.”

There was the brief sound of someone scrambling for the headset.

“Lyanna! This is Ashara! Is the autopilot locked on us?”

“Yes! Ash, I think I’m in labour!”

“It’s all going to be fine, darling. I’m getting our hospital ready for you two and I’ll have doctors and an ambulance waiting at the tarmac. Look, just breathe, we’re going to talk you through landing, alright?” Then her voice became a bit distant. “Ned, I’ve got her, she’s here. I don’t know, there’s been no time to ask, just get here. I’m getting the emergency team ready for her.” She came back on the plane array. “Love, your brother is on his way, he will land right behind you.”

“Where is Rhaegar?” Lyanna asked with a sob.

“He is on the decoy plane to Essos. He turned around the moment we realised you had been highjacked but he was halfway to Qarth by then, it’s going to take him a moment. Ned is the closest, he was coming to the Reach.”

Lyanna saw a light go off on the panel at the same time a man’s voice spoke behind Ashara.

“Something is happening, Ash,” Lyanna groaned at the microphone. Her contractions were getting closer together.

“Your Grace, this is Commander Sand, I’m head of aviation here. You are low on fuel, but I’m confident you can get to us.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t check,” Lyanna was crying now. “The GPS showed Dorne and I just selected Starfall. I didn’t think about fuel.”

“You’re nearing the Prince’s Pass now, Your Grace, there should be enough to get you to us. We hacked into your plane’s commands and we are going to do everything from our end. So just strap in and take deep breaths.”

It hadn’t taken a full quarter of an hour for the commander to curse loudly, loosing his cool and composed voice.

“Princess, you’re losing fuel, there must be a leak somewhere.”

“What do I do?” Lyanna asked fully panicked.

“There’s an old abandoned tower there, Princess. I’m gonna land you as close as I can, but it is going to be bumpy. Buckle your seatbelt. Once you land, you need to get away from the plane as fast as you can. Go to the tower for shelter.”

“Lya, I’m on my way to the helipad,” Ashara said and her audio showed she was on the move. “I’m bringing a medical team on a helicopter to you.”

“Where is Ned?” Lyanna was crying now.

“I’m worried patching him through might weaken the connection, Princess,” the commander said in a tight voice. “Are you strapped in?”

“Yes.”

“Lya, I’m on the other line with Ned right now and he is following our beacon to your plane and the tower, he’ll meet us there. Just hang on for a moment longer.”

Then it had all become a blur. The lights began to blur on and off, the bluish emergency lights finally coming alive and taking over and then it really was bumpy. She hit her head on something, regardless of the tight straps of the seatbelt, and she couldn’t very well remember actually leaving the plane. Only desperately trying to walk away fast. She came across a road, staggering on her feet, and threw a benediction to the Old Gods when she saw a car stopped on the shoulder. Laughter bubbled unstopped when she heard “Highway to Hell” booming on the speakers — the song that had started everything.

“Help!” Lyanna called out. “Help me, please!”

A young woman leapt out of the beetle and only then Lyanna noticed the triangle indicating that the car was broken down.

“Oh, gods! Here, let me help you!” the young woman held Lyanna up and the Princess noticed she was wearing scrubs. “My name is Ayla and I’m a nurse. How far along are you?”

“35 weeks. I have… contractions…”

“It’s all fine, miss. I’m OB/GYN, I know what I’m about. I called for help, but I’ll call again now that you’re here.”

“They’re… on the way…”

“Perfect. What’s your name, miss?”

“Lyanna.”

“Good. Lyanna, I need you to breathe. Can you do that?”

“Tower…” the Princess mumbled. “Commander said… go to the tower…”

Ayla looked around desperately. They were across the street and about twenty steps from the old tower and rain was already beginning to fall. There was a strong explosion not very far off, from the direction Lyanna had come, and Ayla deduced she had been on the plane she saw crashing when the beetle was busy spluttering to another break down. From the looks of it, and from the smoke rising, Lyanna had gotten away just in time.

“Come on, then, let’s go,” Ayla said, supporting most of the weight of the heavily pregnant woman.

She kicked the boot of her clunky beetle and the old car protested by opening in a rusty groan, so she reached for the gym bag and the medical stuff she kept for emergencies, leading the way to the tower. There, she barely had time to spread her old blanket on the ground when Lyanna all but fainted. Checking the proceedings, she cursed.

“Lyanna, your baby is crowning. I’m sorry, we can't wait for help. I’m gonna need you to brace yourself and on the next contraction, you need to push!”

“He… he can’t!” Lyanna sobbed. “He’s too early!”

“It’ll be fine, sweetie, we’ve got 24-weeks babies thriving these days. I need you to push, can you do that?”

Lyanna nodded through tears and the next several minutes went by in a blur of pain and hurt and sobbing. Then, blessedly, a faint cry overtook the chilly room. Trembling with relief, Ayla took her gym towel and wrapped the baby in it. Then she noticed the blood. _Too much blood_. Cursing again, she noticed Lyanna was nearly unconscious.

“Lyanna, I’m gonna give you your baby now, lay him on you arms. Think you can hold on to him while I finish things up down here?” Ayla asked. The woman nodded weakly so the nurse laid the baby gingerly and as safely as she could in the crook of one elbow that turned to hold on to him.

Then she moved back to help mommy, wishing for all the equipment she did _not_ have in the middle of nowhere and an actual medical degree. Then suddenly there were helicopter helixes breaking through the thunder and a storm of people rushed in. One of the women, clearly a rich friend or family member, rushed straight to Lyanna, while the doctor and two nurses came to Ayla.

“What happened?” the doctor asked as the nurses opened big trunks of supplies. Ayla recognised the woman faintly from the hospital.

“Baby was already crowning when we got here, easy way out, but she’s haemorrhaging. I’m trying to stop it as much as I can, but I think it’s internal.”

“You seem to know what you’re doing,” the doctor said, pulling on gloves and taking a look. “I think you’re right.”

“I’m an OB/GYN nurse, madam.”

“Lady Ashara, she needs an OR,” the doctor called out. “We need to bring her in now.”

“Prep for departure then,” Ashara said, holding the baby safely against Lyanna’s chest, uncaring about the blood staining her hands and clothes.

There was more noise coming from the outside and suddenly a man burst inside, also rushing straight to Lyanna. _You have to protect him. Promise me, Ned_.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People start arriving in Harrenhall and the alliances begin to take shape.

Ashara knew subtlety was not a virtue usually found in Stark blood, but right now Lyanna might be pushing it to another level. Everyone who was anyone in Westeros was gathered in Harrenhall, home to the Equestrian National Olympics and every other relevant equestrian championship in the continent. She had just arrived and, since she knew the Starks were right behind her, decided to wait in the courtyard for them.

Everybody stopped talking and turned as soon as the song came blasting through the car speakers. The open-top silver Mustang came in tires squealing, _Highway to Hell_ as a soundtrack. Ashara sighed and looked across from her to where Robert Baratheon stood mesmerised. The pathetic fool. He really thought Lyanna was desperately in love with him, though the girl turned him down at every single possible opportunity. Ashara would bet her whole trust fund that the song was dedicated exclusively to him.

“You usually hate making an impression like this,” the purple-eyed girl said, coming up to the car.

Comet jumped out of the passenger seat easily (though carrying an adult direwolf on the front seat of a car was probably illegal, that particular point was not likely to stop Lyanna) to greet Ashara while the human only rolled her eyes as she killed the engine.

“I wanted to get a point across. And annoy my father. I’ve had the song on a loop the entire flight.”

“Poor Lord Stark.” Ashara chuckled.

“Ned was _still_ trying to keep the peace, can you believe it?”

Ashara sighed. “You know, you won't be able to play nifty songs and avoid it forever.”

“I know.” Lyanna huffed in annoyance. “Daddy dearest intends to sign the pre-nup here.”

“You’re twenty-one, he needs your signature. What are you going to do?”

“Let me put it this way,” Lyanna said, noticing Comet start growling in displeasure. “Over my dead body.”

“My beloved!” Robert exclaimed, nearing the two friends. Ashara saw Lyanna count to twenty — an exercise of patience she didn’t usually care for. “Get off, loathsome beast!” he muttered to Comet. “My beloved! I was expecting you!”

“Lord Baratheon,” Lyanna said, forcing a smile. “How interesting to find you here.”

“We are to be married soon, my love! I don’t care to use titles with you. You may call me Robert,” he said extending a single daisy.

“Oh, I’m sorry, _Lord Baratheon_ ,” she badly feigned a sneeze. “I’m allergic to yellow!” Then using his moment of dazedness to her advantage, she took her bag and Ashara’s hand and turned to leave the courtyard. “Come, Comet! We have better places and better company to find!”

Ashara held her laughter until they were out of sight. “That was very ‘Mean Girls’ of you, Regina.”

Lyanna laughed as well. “If I had lost a penny every time I told him no, I'm not interested; no, I don’t fancy you; no, you may not take me on a date, then I’d be bankrupt. And then the pathetic fool goes to my father for a marriage alliance. He must be missing some core neurones.”

“I agree with you. But Robert Baratheon has been chasing you down and not taking no for an answer for four years.”

“Aye, Ash, because I’m the one girl who’s told him ‘no, sir’.”

“I told him no as well,” Ashara said, shrugging.

“Well, yes, but then you’re with my brother, so he wrote you out as a friend’s girl. Apparently, there’s honour in philandering.”

Ashara only laughed. All the nobility in Westeros was gathered in this one place for the games. It promised quite a lot of philandering and good stories for gossips.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The Stark family had been given a set of apartments in one of the guest wings of the castle, so that’s where Lyanna went, immediately claiming the room with the best view (other than the master bedroom of course). She knew Brandon would be pissed but then he should have floored his own accelerator instead of accepting a ride with Father — she had checked on Winter and the horse transportation and still managed to pass them on the road from the airfield: her father drove like a grandfather years before he even had a grandchild. And Brandon would be doubly as pissed because Ashara had selected the second-best view for Ned and Comet was guarding the third-best for Benjen, so big brother would be left with the last and smallest. Perhaps it would teach him a thing or two about growing a nerve.

“Do you want to cause a political disagreement between the North and the Stormlands?” Ned asked furiously, bursting into the room. So the deaf stag had run crying to his BFF, Lyanna thought as she raised her eyes from the book she was reading at the window seat.

“Apparently Dad does, letting this ridiculous ‘betrothal’ go ahead.”

“Lyanna, please!”

“No, Ned, I will not take this one for the team. This is not the fucking Middle Ages, I don’t _need_ to do everything Dad tells me to without question. There are a lot of things I’d do for House Stark, brother, but marrying against my will a man I neither care for nor respect is not one of them. How can you not see that we’d tear each other apart?”

Ned sighed. “Have you even given him a chance?”

“Why? So he can cheat on me? Speaking of, did you know he’s already got a daughter at the Vale? And you’ve gone to school with him, has he ever been faithful to _any_ of his girlfriends?”

Ned’s silence was answer enough. Then he took a deep breath.

“It will be different with you, Lya. He loves you.”

“He can’t love someone he doesn’t know, Ned. This is obsession, it’s because I’m a flashy new toy. He’s used to hearing ‘yes’ and since I’m saying no, his childishness is acting out. Besides, big brother, love is sweet, but it cannot change a man’s nature.”

“You really will not marry him, will you?” Ned asked with a sigh.

“No,” Lyanna stated. “And if Dad signs a paper saying that I will, then he _will_ be causing a diplomatic issue. Because I’m not kidding, Ned, I will _not_ marry Robert Baratheon. Also, if Dad thinks he can create a way to pressure me, like signing away Winterfell or something, he had better be prepared to lose.”

“That’s easy enough to believe,” Ned muttered. He knew his sister too well: on a battle of stubbornness not even their father could win her over. Besides, a pressured Lyanna was bound to do something stupidly reckless. “I’ll talk to Dad, alright. Stop the engagement.”

“There is no engagement, sweet brother. _I_ never heard a proposal and if I had, I would have said no.”

Ned rolled his eyes and only left the room. Silver was waiting for him outside the bedroom next doors and he didn’t think twice before escaping inside it, as he could hear Brandon yelling something indistinct at their father. His chin fell for a moment before he nearly licked his lips in anticipation.

“Well, well, this is quite the surprise!” he said, closing the door, noticing the direwolf had decided to not join him inside just now.

Ashara laughed from her position on the bed, her purple eyes shining with mirth and highlighted by the… he couldn’t quite name it, but it was purple lace and silk in a delightful piece of lingerie.

“We’ve been away for two weeks,” she said with a pout. “I miss my wolf.”

Ned laughed, pulling his shirt and chucking his boots off as he crossed the room to join her.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Lord Rickard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Lord Paramount of the North, and Warden of the North had a problem. Well, he had a small list of them, but at the moment there was one in particular that was giving him a bloody migraine: his beautiful, beloved, wilful daughter. Westeros found itself in a brink of civil war, that was a certainty. Unrest about the absolutist power of Targaryens had been developing for a long time, grown sharper when Aerys II had chosen Tywin Lannister as his Hand and turned a blind eye to his ruthlessness — the Old Lion was little loved around the Kingdoms after his spectacle in Castamere.

The Defiance of Dukensdale had set off the madness of their King, to a point that couldn’t be ignored or managed by his Small Council anymore. The high nobility was wary and more than ever there was talk of constitutionalism. Some more radical advocated for a republic, but that was unlikely to happen as the lords were not likely to allow for the privileges to go away.

That meant, however, that as distasteful as it may sound to the modern world and specially the idealistic youth, arranged marriages were going to be needed to consolidate alliances for the upcoming war and reform. Brandon had, very begrudgingly, and only after listening to all the facts and seeing her pictures, accepted to marry Catelyn Tully and secure the Riverlands. But Lyanna… Lyanna resolutely refused to marry Robert Baratheon — their likely candidate for first constitutional monarch. Why couldn’t his daughter just accept and play along this one time?

Robert Baratheon had been deeply offended this morning. He had complained, loudly and at length, about how he intended only to greet his fiancée and grace her with a flower, but Lyanna had been most discourteous. Rickard and Ned had managed to soothe the Stormlord, saying that Lyanna was only tired with the journey and worried about the competition: this would be the first Olympics with a category for women. People said it was due to the insistence and work of Prince Rhaegar and Lyanna had gotten only too excited, immediately saddling Winter and going to the training grounds. Between her, Brandon, and the Polo Team, Winterfell was set to get at least one good prize, Rickard was sure.

But he needed to settle this issue with Lyanna. His advisors had already drawn the pre-nuptial agreement to be signed sometime during the Olympics and though he had been clearly loathe to admit, Maester Walys had been clear that Lyanna had to sign the document herself or it would have no legal value. Now how to convince her?

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Elia went into the solar with an easy smile on her face.

“I haven’t seen the figures, but I think this is the best turn out we’ve seen in years!” she said. “Congratulations, Rhaegar.”

“Thank you,” he smiled from behind his computer screen and a small pile of papers. “But the Olympics are a national event. I did little.”

“A national event that has been losing people’s interest for decades. I'm sure you were sent the figures for the athletes that want to compete.”

“Yes, I have. No one believed me, but we have a surprising number of women competing, considering they had very small notice. There are only two polo teams, so it’s going to be more symbolic than anything, but I’m certain next time we should have a better turn-out.”

“Everybody will remember you as the man who brought back the equestrian tradition and more, who modernised it,” Elia said. Then she exhaled. “However, I’m certain that was not why you asked me to come here.”

“No,” the Prince agreed. “I’ve swept the place for bugs, so we may speak freely. On the issue we were discussing these past weeks…”

“I am not going to change my mind, Rhaegar, if that is what is worrying you,” Elia said. “I should never have agreed to this in the first place.”

“We were both compliant, Elia. I hope this won’t mean we can’t be friends.”

She smiled. “Rhae, I love you. But I love you like a dear friend. We would never make each other happy. Besides, there is one aspect I discovered just as I was leaving Dorne on my way here that might make it easier for you to break it to your father.” He frowned. “Even if we weren’t exactly trying too hard, the fact is that we have been married for three years and I never once was able to carry out a pregnancy for further than 14 weeks. So I took a fertility test. I can’t have children, Rhaegar. I will never be able to provide the throne with heirs.”

“Oh,” he said, sitting back on his chair. “I’m sorry, Elia,” he said, genuinely sad. “I can’t say this won’t make things easier for me, because we both know very well it will, but I do wish it weren’t so. You’re so loving, you deserved to have your own children.”

“You are a darling. But if I’m not princess of anywhere, much less the queen, then I can adopt a lot of munchkins who need love and not a crown. I will be quite alright.”

“That is very mature and detached of you.”

“The test was just a definitive answer,” she shrugged, “I’ve been living with this since my first miscarriage. You know what they say about the five stages of grief. I’ve had enough time to reach acceptance. Now, when do we sign the paperwork?”

“Jon is working on it,” Rhaegar said. “I’ve asked him to be extra-thorough, since I'm sure my father had Tywin Lannister fill our marriage contract with all sorts of loopholes and I don’t want any legal trouble to arise.”

She laughed. “Oh, I'm sure Connington is thrilled and doing it extra dutifully. He will want us legally separated as quickly and as thoroughly as possible.”

“Elia, please.” Rhaegar rolled his eyes. “Jon is a good friend and nothing else.”

“Oh, I believe that from you, but I do have eyes and he is not as discreet as he thinks — or hopes — he is.”

“I'm not having this argument with you,” Rhaegar said. “I just wanted to make sure you really are certain about this so we can start preparing our families and the press for the backlash of the first Royal divorce in the history of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“People have been getting divorces for sixty years already and there are starting to have some cases in the nobility as well. It was high time the Royal Family was allowed to.”

“There is a difference between being legally allowed and socially allowed, Elia, you know that. In any case, this is happening. So, brace yourself for the press madness.”

“I’m Dornish, Rhaegar, I should be very well indeed as we tend to disregard most gossip and scandals. You should be the one bracing yourself for when the King finds out.” With a last easy smile, she stood up and left the room.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Aerys II Targaryen was King of the Seven Kingdoms by divine grace and will of the Seven Gods. Therefore, most obviously, his word was law and divine designs. Which was, also obviously, why he relegated the minor, petty issues to his Hand and cared only for the great matters. It was why, also, he was flabbergasted with the audacity of his son.

“How dare you make such a decision!” he yelled.

Rhaegar didn’t flinch. “I am sorry, Father, but I believed you had made me Master of Sports and charged me with growing interest for the Equestrian Olympics once more. I have…”

“I said: ‘make the lords love the game again’, you fool! Lords, not ladies! A woman has no business on the back of a horse, not since they’re no longer means of transportation! A lady’s place is in the home, caring for her husband and children.”

Now Rhaegar did shiver at the sheer misogyny of the statement.

“I am sorry, Father, I only thought…”

“Well, there is the problem, you _thought_! A king does not think, he commands! And the role of a Crown Prince is to obey his father and king!”

“Of course, Father,” Rhaegar parroted the line he had grown so very used to.

“Cancel the women’s competitions. Say it is by the order of the King.”

Rhaegar paled, disconcerted for a moment. That would cause untold damages! Not to mention the financial disaster!

“Perhaps, Your Grace,” Lord Varys said with his sumptuous manner, “there is a better way?”

“Are you questioning my wisdom, Spider?”

“Of course not, Your Grace, I would never dare. But since Your Grace has so much on your superior mind, you are not able to fully see how the small-minded people think.”

“Oh.” The King relaxed on his chair, appeased. “Very well, speak.”

“If you cancel, they will not understand your command, Your Grace, because they are not graced with enough intellect. But if we allow this to go on, then we are certain to see your point proved during the competition: a lady injured for her daring. Then when we cancel women’s presence for the next competition, they will all revere and be grateful for the wisdom of their King. And you can say Prince Rhaegar was hasty and should never have allowed this violation of the gods’ order in the first place. People will love you ever more and remember to be cautious of the impulsiveness of youth.”

“Of course, of course, Lord Varys. You are quite right. Very well, I accept your suggestion. See it done, Rhaegar.” With that Aerys stood up and burst out of the room. Arthur rushed to close the door behind him and the Prince took his place on his chair.

“Sometimes, Varys,” Rhaegar started, “you really do scare me into wondering which side you’re really on.”

“I like to keep you on your toes, Your Grace,” the Master of Whisperers said. “I’ll take my leave now. Too many people arriving, too many plots taking place.”

Arthur saw him leave and then sat across from Rhaegar at the desk.

“You know, this brings up another problem,” the Dornishman said.

“I know,” Rhaegar said. “This has been public knowledge for a year. Well, fourteen months actually. And my father reads the paper every single day. It was front page news the day after I made the announcement, so how come he had no idea? He is clinically insane, but he doesn’t have memory problems. So, what newspapers has he been reading?”

“And who gave it to him?” Arthur pointed out.

“Oh, well, that one is easy,” Rhaegar said though the conclusion gave him no relief. “It was Tywin. And that almost certainly means he knows I’m about to make a move and he wants to squirm his way into my good graces.”

“Well, I think he’d rather squirm his daughter onto the throne next to yours,” Arthur said bluntly. “Well, preferably into your bed first. Regardless of Elia only having confirmation now, everybody has been speculating for years that she is barren. Even without knowing about the divorce, if Cersei were to get pregnant with your child, Tywin would be able to pressure you into setting Elia aside and marrying her. Even Aerys might agree easily with a paternity test in hand, because it would be proof the Targaryen line would continue. And that makes me wonder — you should have Connington check your marriage contract for a barrenness clause and something about what is the rule for illegitimate children.”

“It’s a good point. But I’m still in the process of getting rid of an arranged marriage, Art. I won’t settle for it again,” the Prince stated.

“I hate to rain on your parade, Rhae, but you’re the Crown Prince and you’re looking for alliances to overthrow your tyrannical and clinically insane father without detonating a civil war. You’d have to fall in love with the daughter of a lord paramount for this to work. Preferably a warden.”

“Well, I’d rather fall in love with a witty woman who won't care about my crown.”

Arthur snorted. “You’re wanting too much, Rhaegar. Next you’ll say you want her to win the women’s race or something.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Rhaegar said. “I won the amateur men’s race last Olympics. I’d love a woman who loves horses.”

“If marrying for love was already going to be hard for you, getting all these pre-requisites is next to impossible, my friend.”

“I’m a Targaryen, my friend. My House thrives on the impossible!”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

With Brandon retired to his bedroom to lick his wounded ego for losing his preferred and usual room to his baby sister, Lyanna left the book aside, put on her training clothes, and went all the way down to the stables and the obstacle training course. She wanted to make sure Winter was fine after the plane trip and fit to begin the training regimen tomorrow. They had exactly one week and one day before the first competition and everything had to be in perfect order.

The stables were a mess, people arriving and checking in their horses, some entitled fools complaining about accommodations. Lyanna had to admit that the set up at Winterfell was better, since she and Brandon had annoyed their father into spending quite a bit of money in a thorough renovation, but the place here was more than good. The area actually consisted of a great grassy yard surrounded by nine big buildings, a tenth smaller one diving the two rows, where the horses were to be split into their respective regions. The two buildings nearer to the middle one were the biggest, reserved for the regions that brought the biggest number of competitors. The one to the left sported the sigil of House Martell, the rulers of Dorne, a region with a strong equestrian background, especially in endurance competitions, since their breeds were meant for their desert climate. The one to the right had sported the sigil of House Stark since the first Olympic games, back in the Middle Ages, for so long that not even the history books could remember a time in which the North didn’t hold the biggest team. So that is where Lyanna went, Comet following close behind. Not that paparazzi allowed for much privacy, but she guessed a direwolf companion was enough of a calling card that everybody made way for her, even the non-Northerners, and respectfully greeted her as ‘Lady Lyanna’.

“How is my lucky charm, Hullen?” she asked with a big smile, watching the horse trainer check on Winter.

“Fit as fiddle, m’lady!” the man said. “Shouldn’t train today, but she’d like some exercising if you want.”

“When don’t I?” Lyanna smiled. The man only laughed and went to grab the saddle.

“There was a problem with one of the Karstark horses, Lya,” Maege Mormont said, coming nearer. “Apparently their trainer didn’t fasten them too securely and one of them got hurt during landing.”

“Oh, the poor thing!” Lyanna said. “Will the horse be able to compete?”

“Don’t know yet,” Maege shrugged. “We’ve got enough spares, but they’re never the same. They just called Brandon, though, he is on his way.”

“Oh, great. Where’s Hullen with the saddle? I don’t want to see big brother if he’s gonna yell at the poor soul that hurt a horse.”

“I can’t believe you are so relaxed about it,” Maege said, impressed.

Lyanna smirked. “I know their trainer. She’ll pay more attention from now on, don’t you worry.”

Maege laughed and was soon drawn away. Lyanna let her go, not caring to know the details of anything other than the horse caring. Hullen had Winter saddled in a jiffy and when Lyanna came to her door, there was already someone else there.

“Excuse me! Can I help you?” she called out, worried. Tempering with other competitors’ horses was not unheard of and she would gut anyone who dared touch Winter.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Rhaegar said. “I was just coming to take a look around. That’s a fine horse you have here.”

Well, lusting for good horses was even less unheard of. “She’s not for sale, so you can keep on going.”

“I didn’t mean to offend. But say I am interested. She’d get six figures easily. How much would you consider?” he asked. He could see the horse was well-bred and well-taken care of, so it might be a good investment.

“Not even all the money in the Iron Bank,” Lyanna bit out through her teeth. “Winter is not a trading good. She is mine.”

Rhaegar recoiled, feeling like he had mortally offended the lady. She seemed to care for Winter as much as he cared for Storm.

“And when they announce you at the tracks,” Ashara said, coming through the half-door. “You’ll give new meaning to the words ‘Winter is Coming’, Lya. Hello, Rhaegar.” She smiled sweetly. “Is my brother about?”

“He’s helping some poor man whose horse is wounded,” Rhaegar replied with an easy smile, hugging his best friend’s sister. “The trainer is military so Group Captain Dayne was threatening to have her court-martialed.”

“I’m sure. Lady Lyanna, I’m sure you’ve met the Prince of Dragonstone. Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, may I introduce the Lady Lyanna of House Stark, only daughter to the Warden of the North. And, by the way, her reply to selling Winter is akin to yours about selling Storm.”

“So I’ve noticed. I meant no harm, Lady Lyanna, I was only checking around. Can't have the event hiccupping after I put so much effort into organising it.”

“No harm done,” Lyanna said, relaxing. “I hope you won’t find it impertinent that I should thank you for including women in the games, Your Grace. I feel like I was wasting away in Northern championships forever.”

“Well, to continue that would be a pity,” Arthur said, coming to stand next to his sister. “I have to say, Lyanna, I think someone pissed your brother Brandon off. I’m actually sorry for the poor woman now that he is here.”

“That would be me, actually,” Lyanna said. “And she should have been more careful.”

“Are you competing?” Arthur asked. “I remember seeing you at the tracks training one time I was visiting, I dare say you’re a good candidate.”

“Oh, no Arthur,” Lyanna said, leading Winter out in the open. “I’m not _competing_. I’m _winning_.”

Ashara rolled her eyes and Arthur chuckled as she left. Then the man looked at the enchanted expression on Rhaegar’s face, his mouth agape. He snorted loudly.

“Fucking hells, man! When I said impossible, I didn’t expect to be proved wrong within the hour!”

“She is…” Rhaegar started, grasping for words.

“Having just heard it from Elia,” Ashara smirked. “I will say Lyanna is single. However, she is not keen on a boyfriend just now.”

“I will just… I will check if… if Storm wants a ride,” Rhaegar mumbled and left quickly as well.

“Fifty dragons say they’re going out by the end of the games,” Ashara said, turning to her brother with joyful eyes.

“Keep your dragons, sis. I happen to think they’ll be together by the end of the week. Fucking impossible dragon magic!” he muttered, stomping away.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyanna and Rhaegar get to know each other better and the gossip spreads.

Lyanna smiled easily as she led Winter off the tracks.

“Should I take it as a compliment, Your Grace, or should I be worried about stalking?” she asked, going to where Rhaegar was watching the training on the back of his own horse.

“Curiosity, rather, my lady,” he replied with a smile. “Should I praise your sneakiness or be worried about your position in the competition?” he asked and she raised an eyebrow. “You were holding back.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Lyanna said with a shrug.

“Your thighs were too loose and you were too relaxed. That is the posture of a rider that is used to hanging on much more tightly when she’s competing for real, but she’s in a leisure pace now.”

“Well, you’ve caught me.” She smirked. “Why would I show all my potential during training?”

“Some would argue training is when you should push your limits,” Rhaegar countered.

“In my training yard in Winterfell, yes. But here… well, let’s just say that when I go in for real, I don’t want people to know what I can do.”

Then she kicked Winter into a trot and started to ride away at speed. With a charmed laugh, Rhaegar kicked Storm into following, drawn to her like a siren’s call. He tried to catch up, but she had a head start and all he could do was slowly close their distance. They rode away from the clutter of people and horses and stables, almost for a full hour until they crested a hill and Lyanna stopped, leading Winter to the nearby pond and dismounting, giving the mare head to drink. Rhaegar did the same to Storm and then reached into the saddlebag for a few carrots both horses were very pleased with. His phone beeped and he pulled it out of his pocket.

“Can’t you turn off the world for a moment?” Lyanna asked.

“This is Arthur’s tone,” the Prince replied.

‘ _Next time you want a date, let me know I need to cover for you_ ’, Arthur wrote, getting chuckles.

‘ _Sorry, can you cover for me?_ ’ Rhaegar wrote back, turning the phone to silent and pocketing it.

“You have a special ringtone for your friend?” she asked.

“Well, it helps me to discern when I need to check quickly or when it’s boring political things and I can take my time,” he replied, turning to find her lying on her back on the grass, her long brown hair pulled from its braid and thrown in a halo around her head.

“How responsible of you, my Prince,” she said with a chuckle, closing her eyes and enjoying the warmth.

“We all need a moment for ourselves,” he replied, sitting across from her, leaning on the tree. She made quite the image: pale skin, red lips, and dark hair basking in the sun. “And you are very relaxed for someone who is going into a national competition in two days.”

She chuckled. “As you said, we need moments to ourselves. I was on my last run already. And I’m not training tomorrow, only taking Winter out for some exercise. No need to make her too tired before the competition.” They were silent for long moments until Lyanna turned her head and opened her eyes. “Are you going to compete?”

“It wouldn’t be really fair for one of the organisers to compete, now would it?” He replied, wishing he had a sketchbook and the skill to draw. “People would say I was rigging it.”

“You won the last amateur race,” Lyanna said. “In racing, you either finish first or you don’t.”

“Should I be worried about stalking, my lady?” They both laughed. “Why jumping, if I might ask.”

“Although there is training involved, racing is more about your horse being biologically capable or not. In jumping, the biological takes a background to hard training. I suppose I enjoy a challenge.”

Rhaegar smiled. Lyanna Stark was a breath of fresh air in comparison to the average lady at Court, usually worried about the latest fashion or who was dating whom.

“You mentioned competing in Northern championships. Are you a professional?”

“I suppose you could say that. I’m in school for veterinary medicine, but otherwise I’m training and competing.” Then she laughed. “I would ask ‘what about you?’ but the newspapers talked about your investiture as Master of Sports quite loudly.”

“Yes, my father thought there was only so much I could fuck up as Master of Sports,” he said sourly.

Lyanna frowned and sat up and he saw for the first time how long her hair really was, reaching below her waist.

“Shouldn’t your father trust you a little more considering you’re the next king? You’re not a child anymore.”

“No, I’m not,” Rhaegar said, regretting going down this path. “My father is… a complicated person.”

Lyanna sighed and threw herself on her back again. “Aye. I understand complicated fathers.”

“Is Lord Stark a complicated man?”

“Not, I suspect, as much as the King. Though I suppose raising a daughter after my mother died was too much for his still sexist tendencies.”

“I suppose we still live in a sexist world,” Rhaegar said, “as advanced as we would like to call ourselves.” Another silence stretched, though it was a comfortable one. “I saw you have a direwolf.”

“I do. Comet doesn’t have the patience to watch me train, though, so she went hunting.” Lyanna closed her eyes and poked the connection on the back of her mind. Then she laughed. “The lucky girl! She caught herself a deer. She’ll be in an excellent mood!”

Rhaegar smiled, excited. “So you’re a warg?”

“You’ve heard of it, then?” she asked. “It’s a Northern thing.”

“I like to read.” He shrugged. “So, I already know you like a challenge and I know you have a direwolf companion. Tell me, do you scare easily?”

She opened one eye to look at him as he smiled and his eyes sparkled with the challenge.

“What are you proposing, Your Grace?”

He only smiled and a moment later there was a shadow over them and an approaching screech. Lyanna jumped up, watching with fascination as the dragon flew nearer: the sun reflected off its deep, blood red scales, creating a beacon in the sky. Rhaegar took his phone out again, opening the chat with Arthur.

_‘I’m going for a flight, can you warn air control?’_

His friend didn’t take long to reply.

_‘Why must you make my life so hard? I’ll spread the warning, but keep to the east if you can. We have a cargo plane coming in from the Reach in a bit and horseys need food.’_

_‘Deal_ ,’ Rhaegar wrote back. ‘ _You're the best and I appreciate you putting up with my unauthorised dragon flying_.’

_‘Tell me when Targaryens needed Air Force permission to fly and I’ll find your appreciation genuine.’_

Rhaegar only laughed, pocketing his phone once again as Mele landed, shaking the earth. He was apprehensive for a moment, but Lyanna only smiled and extended her hand, mutely asking Mele’s permission to approach and laughing, delighted, when the dragon laid his head down to receive her petting. He shouldn’t have expected anything different from someone who liked other creatures so much.

“So,” he started, standing up, “are you brave enough?”

Lyanna looked up from the dragon, confused for a moment, and then opened a huge smile. “Are you serious?”

“Unless you’re afraid,” Rhaegar said though he knew she was unlikely to refuse.

She answered by smiling even larger and quickly pulling her long loose hair into a ponytail. “Ready when you are, Your Grace.”

“One condition, Lady Lyanna.”

“Lyanna,” she cut in. “Sorry. It’s a reflex. I hate the button-up formality of titles.”

He chuckled. “Well, that was my condition, _Lyanna_. Call me Rhaegar.”

“It’s a deal!”

Laughing, infected by her levity and sheer simplicity of being, he took his place on Mele’s back reaching out to help her up the scales and behind him. She smelled sweetly, floral, fresh, and he shook his head to focus.

“Sōves!”

And when Mele followed the command and took to the air, Rhaegar knew the ghost of Lyanna’s laughter, carefree and filled with joy, would stay with him forever.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Rhaegar led them northeast for about another hour. Lyanna was holding on to his waist, pressed against his back, and expressing her awe in a way that was testing his limits. He finally directed Mele to land, needing a respite from her contagious joy and intoxicating smell.

“This is fantastic!” she said on his ear as they descended, making him involuntarily shiver. “How can you bear to land?”

“There are fantastic things on land as well,” was all he replied.

On the ground, he slid from Mele’s back easily and extended his hand to help Lyanna as she came as gracefully as she could as a first timer. The dragon moved, propelling the woman forward and straight into Rhaegar’s arms. He held her by the waist, drowning in her eyes as a wave of great amusement came through the connection with Mele. If dragons could laugh, Rhaegar knew his companion would be guffawing madly.

They were both powerless to resist the great pull of attraction that had been drawing them together for a week now, in which they both looked for the most ridiculous excuses to be in the same place. But Lyanna froze when their lips were only an inch apart.

“You’re married,” she whispered, afraid to break the spell.

“Divorcing,” Rhaegar spoke in an exhale.

“Does she know?”

“Her idea,” he explained and then finally joined them in an explosive kiss. She tasted just like he had imagined: wild, fierce, and strong, but delicate. Her lips were pillowy but she was not shy in kissing him back, owning the kiss as much as him — she had only the illusion of softness, for there lay strength underneath. Drowning in the sweet aroma of the winter roses she loved and used to decorate her braids, Rhaegar felt Lyanna Stark stealing his heart away. And he could only rejoice.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Lyanna was nervously aware of the thousands of eyes that were following her around the huge dining hall. She, Benjen, and Ned were sitting at a table, waiting for their father and Brandon.

“I talked with Dad.” Ned finally broke the uncomfortable silence.

“And?” Lyanna asked, setting her glass down.

“He wants to talk to you about his reasons.” Ned sighed. “Though why he’s being so stubborn scares me.”

“You know, I’ll—”

“Hey, guys! Hey, love!” Ashara said, coming up to their table. Ned immediately smiled and stood to greet her. That’s when they noticed who came with her.

“I hope I’m not imposing my company,” Elia said with a kind smile. “But I’d like to join you if I can.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Ned said, “we would be honoured.”

Elia not so subtly made it clear she wanted to sit by Lyanna, so Ned pulled out her chair. After they were all sitting, a waiter came seemingly from nowhere and filled their wine glasses. Elia made small talk until after Rickard and Brandon had come and their food was served, joining in the jokes and making her own.

“I feel like inspecting that delectable chocolate fountain,” the Princess said once the last plate had been cleared.

“A chocolate fountain you insisted on having to the best of your power,” Ashara said with a smile.

“Would you accompany me, Lady Lyanna?”

“Of course,” Lyanna agreed to be polite, even if that was the last thing she wanted. Divorcing or not, she had just spent half her afternoon making out with the other’s husband and flying with him on his dragon — a privilege Rhaegar had confessed he had never shared before, not even with Elia.

The Princess folded the lady’s arm in hers as they walked away, speaking of the same light conversation as when they were seated at the table, making sure people saw them in good terms. After they had been served with fruit decadently covered with chocolate, Elia led them to a balcony. The guards stood at the door.

“Oh, how wonderful, privacy,” the Dornish woman said. “I’m sorry for the show and dance, but there is always a lot of that involved when you’re a Royal.

“Your Grace, I have to say…”

“I didn’t call you here to threaten you, Lady Lyanna. I’m sure you’ve heard the latest gossip that someone saw you and Rhaegar riding back after a whole afternoon away, though thanks the heavens they didn’t manage a picture. I merely wanted to state to those troublemakers that we are in friendly terms so there is nothing ‘illicit’ happening.”

“Oh,” Lyanna said, a bit thrown. “Rhaegar said… he said you were getting a divorce.”

“We are. We got married because of a political alliance and while he is a dear friend and a good man, there is nothing else. Now I must ask — is this a flirt for you? Something to fill your time during the excitement of the championship?”

“I’m sorry, but I think this is between the Prince and I.”

“Lady Lyanna, I just need you to understand: Rhaegar is a man deeply committed to his House and his people. This is between you and Rhaegar and I do wish you happiness. However, this championship is more than a sports event to Rhaegar. This could seal his future or destroy him. He can’t be distracted by a fling that will be over with the Final Gala.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Now, dear, that is between you and Rhaegar.” Elia smiled pleasantly again. “I would like more chocolate, would you?”

“No, thank you,” Lyanna said. “I’ve had my fill.”

Elia only nodded and left. Lyanna took a shaky breath and then decided she was done with public appearances for the day. The guards that had stood at the balcony doors had left with Elia, so the northerner just followed the corridor out of the main wing in the direction of the tower her family was staying in. She was halfway there, thinking that Comet still hadn’t come back, when someone suddenly grabbed her wrist and whirled her around. She raised her other hand to slap the offender away, but he had been expecting it and dodged. Before she could have any other reaction, she was pushed against the wall, a strong hand on her mouth preventing her from yelling.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Rhaegar was twirling his clean fish knife on his fingers merely to try and expel his annoyance and anxiety with the gesture.

“Wait, you spent the whole afternoon making out?” Arthur asked, chuckling as he set his glass down.

“Yes, Arthur, can we move on from that?”

The military attaché laughed. “My best friend is finally interested in a girl and spent the whole afternoon making out with her like a horny teenager, I'm going to stay on subject for a moment.”

“I am _not_ a horny teenager, as you very well know,” Rhaegar mumbled. “Can we please focus on the part where her father is trying to force her to marry Robert Baratheon?”

“A damper on your happiness for sure.”

“Arthur, can you stop thinking about my romance for a moment! I didn’t think anything of it either, until Lyanna said she had met Baratheon a couple times, and only as her brother Ned’s friend. He had tried asking her out a few times and she had blatantly refused but now her father is trying to get a political marriage behind her back.”

Arthur frowned. “Look, I know political marriages are politely frowned upon these days, but if we’re being honest it is still the rule for us nobles. At least for the heirs. Lyanna is the only daughter of the Warden of the North and Robert Baratheon is Lord Paramount of the Stormlands after that tragedy with his parents. It isn't that wild. My big brother married for an alliance.”

“I know,” Rhaegar exhaled in frustration. “But her father is also making an alliance between Brandon, the eldest, and the eldest Tully girl.”

“Alright,” Arthur said, sitting back on his chair. “Now your paranoia is actually well-funded.”

“If what Varys heard about the youngest Tully girl and the nephew and heir of the Lord of the Vale is true, then we have a block alliance against me, Art. Stark and Baratheon, Stark and Tully, Tully and Arryn: that’s the North, the Riverlands, the Vale, and the Stormlands united. I’ve got Dorne and I think the Reach is secure. But Tywin will do what is best for Tywin. I can't let this go on.”

“Tell Lyanna you will marry her as soon as Jon gets your divorce settled,” Arthur said.

Rhaegar snorted. “I’ve known her a week!”

“And you met Elia for a grand total of three times before you were promising to honour her and what-nots for the rest of your days,” Arthur said. “Look, Rhae, we need to be realistic here. You are the fucking Prince of Dragonstone. A marriage for love was a fairy dream for you until you actually met and fell in love with the daughter of a warden. And before we even got here, you know you were counting on the North: their sense of honour and their skill in battle, not to mention how they are the biggest kingdom, was always something you very much needed. Be merry and in love — and I am ecstatic for you, my friend, you know I am. But now that you’re in love, put that aside and think with that political head of yours. You need the North and you need to stop this block alliance even more. And Starks are the centre of this whichever way you turn to. If you marry Lyanna, you lose the Stormlands, but honestly, if that’s the scenario, you can’t have it all. Marry Lyanna, secure the North and, if Brandon Stark marries the Tully girl, you secure the Riverlands and hopefully the Vale as well. Then it’s five on one already and Tywin _will_ side with you.”

“Will he, though? If I don’t marry Cersei? He’s basically the throne now!”

“Rhaegar, think, damn it! What’s wrong with you today? If you’ve got Dorne, the Reach, the North, the Riverlands, and the Vale, then the only thing in your way is the Stormlands, who won't have the power to resist. Tywin may be pissed but he knows the situation with Aerys is getting each day more unmanageable. You will make a move sooner or later or there will be rebellion. Better to side with you and prosper under you, even if less than he wanted, than suffer what the result of five kingdoms against him will be.”

“You’re right,” Rhaegar agreed with a sigh. “But will Lyanna agree to it when she is so against an arranged marriage?”

“Well, I know little of her, she’s only the little sister of Ashara’s boyfriend. But is it the marriage she objects to or the groom?”

Before the Prince could reply, there was the sound of scratching on the door to the solar. They frowned, worried. Arthur pulled his gun from the holster at his hip as he slowly opened the door, covering Rhaegar. Then he snorted.

“Let me guess, you’re here with a message?”

“Message?” Rhaegar asked with a smile, recognising Lyanna’s beloved Comet.

“These direwolves are bloody smart. They can sense the mood of their companions and Ashara says sometimes Ned send messages through Silver. Like tiny notes. Something like that.”

But Comet didn’t have a tiny note. She was anxious, fidgeting, and barked pointing to the door. Rhaegar tried to pet her, but the she-wolf wasn’t very keen, pushing him towards the door with her snout.

“Do you want me to follow you?” the Prince asked, used to non-verbal conversation from Mele. The direwolf barked again and turned to the door.

“I’m coming with,” Arthur said, not putting the gun back.

Rhaegar only nodded, following Comet down the halls. They were halfway to the main dining hall when they heard raised voices. Then Rhaegar heard Lyanna’s voice and his blood boiled. Comet bound forward, becoming a blur of movement and the two men sped up as well.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Lyanna felt the air be shocked out of her lungs as she hit the wall. The man had her well trapped, helpless against his strength. The smell of alcohol was dizzying on his breath as he leaned closer, almost nose-to-nose.

“Whacha think yer doin’?” Robert slurred. “Ridin’ away wish ‘im? Lettin’ e’eryone see ye? Ye ar mine, d’ye undershtand? Mine!”

Lyanna shook her head until the sad excuse of a drunk let go of her mouth.

“Get your hands off me! Are you insane!”

“Ye ar mine, Lyanna! D’ye undershtand that? Ye can’t! Ye can’t run off wish ‘im! Yer gun be me qween!”

“I’m no trophy to belong to any man, Robert! Let me go! Right now!”

“Wer signin’ papers on the day of the Gala! Ye ar mine! D’ye ‘ear me?”

If before Lyanna was having a hard time to struggle in his iron grip, now she was hopeless. Robert pulled her away and hit her back on the wall again, making her head hit painfully against the stone. She was disoriented with the blow, so much so that when Robert was suddenly yanked away, she slid to the ground limply.

She tried blinking into awareness, but reality was fuzzy. She felt more than saw Comet’s presence and the sudden arrival of a second, third, and forth bark made it clear the pack was converging. Then soft hands touched her face and stormy indigo eyes flooded her vision.

“Lya, are you alright?” Rhaegar asked, panicked.

“I’m…” she started, but then the words got lost. The world was too foggy to make sense. She felt her face fall forward, but Rhaegar caught her. Ned, Ashara, Benjen, and Brandon stormed into the hallway then.

“Oh, gods!” Ashara exclaimed.

With the threat contained, all four direwolves stood in a circle around the heap Robert Baratheon was on the ground, and Arthur came to them, aiming his gun at the fallen man. Then a handful of guards came, drawn by the noise, and he ordered the Stormlord be led to his room and remain there under guard until a second order was given.

“She needs a doctor,” Rhaegar said, supporting Lyanna.

“Rhae, you have to keep her awake,” Ashara said, looking at the wall and then coming to check the back of her friend’s head. “The stone had a bulge,” she said, showing her bloodied hand.

“Head wounds bleed the most,” Arthur said, finally putting his gun away. “She needs a doctor now!”

“Group Captain Dayne, call the infirmary and tell them I need a doctor in my rooms now,” Rhaegar said, raising Lyanna in his arms and starting down the hall.

“Why not take her to the infirmary?” Brandon asked as the siblings rushed to keep up.

“Halfway across the castle,” Rhaegar answered. “It’s too far. And I doubt you want this made public. In the infirmary someone is bound to talk.”

“And if she is in your room they won't?” Brandon sneered.

“Shut up, Bran,” Ned said. “This is about Lyanna and a blow to the head.

“Don’t, Bran,” Benjen cut in when it seemed the elder would reply. “This is all because of you and father insisting in this mad marriage.”

“Boys, this is no time for the blame game,” Ashara said, trying to put pressure on the wound and keep up with Rhaegar’s long legs on her heels.

The three acquiesced and they went quietly the rest of the way. Benjen rushed forward and opened the door and then Rhaegar led them through the living room to the bedroom, setting Lyanna carefully on the bed, uncaring for the mess the blood would create.

“Tired,” she mumbled.

“I know, love, but you need to stay awake. Can you do that?”

“Sleepy.”

“Lya, remember what we do the night before a competition?” Ashara asked. “We do manis and pedis, right? You need to be awake for that.”

Lyanna inhaled and blinked, trying to shake some of the fogginess away. “But… that… tomorrow night. Two days for competition.”

Rhaegar smiled. “See, you’re gonna be just fine. Can you just stay awake for a while longer?”

Comet came and jumped onto the bed, forcing her head on top of Lyanna’s thighs. Then both their eyes went white and the she-wolf moaned in pain.

“Wait, they’re…” Rhaegar started. “They’re warging? Now?”

“It’s kind of like your connection to Mele,” Ashara said. “They share everything, even their pain.”

“Wow.”

The doctor came in then, shooing the brothers, though Rhaegar forbade him to send Comet away. The man was furious, but knew better than to refuse his Prince.

“Lya,” Rhaegar called softly. “We need you back in your own mind now.”

Lyanna shivered, blinked, and when she opened her eyes again they were their normal grey. Comet moaned and retreated to curl up at the foot of the bed. Then the doctor begun his examination.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

“You think he attacked her?” Brandon asked, pacing the living room.

“I doubt Lyanna threw her own head back on the wall hard enough to bleed by herself, Bran,” Benjen said. “Ned? You look a bit murderous.”

“I called him my friend,” Ned said through his teeth.

“In middle school,” Benjen pointed out. “Halfway through high school too, before he dropped out to go back to Storm’s End when his parents died.”

Ned threw his little brother a glare. “I called him friend. Robert told me he thought of me as his brother more than Stannis and Renly. When he first said he was keen on Lya, I encouraged him to ask her out. And now he turns around and attacks her like this.”

“He was drunk,” Brandon said, upset. “I’m all for having a drink, but a man can’t let alcohol cloud his judgement.”

“I don’t care for dad’s reasons, Bran,” Ned said. “I’m taking Lyanna’s side more than ever. She is not marrying Robert. Not even if it means saving Winterfell!”

Brandon looked in the direction of the bedroom, letting out a sigh. “I agree. Lyanna is not marrying that brute. But I wonder now...”

“What are dad’s reasons, Bran?” Benjen asked. “Because he’s gotta have good ones for wanting to marry you and Lya off to Tullys and Baratheons.”

“Never you mind that.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of Robert's attack, Lyanna must make a decision about her wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is in honour of the Rhaegar x Lyanna AU Week Day 4: Modern AU and dedicated to @toaquiprashippar for being a diehard R+L shipper and especially for putting up with my "I'm stressed, I've got no time to breathe, and I hate my professor" speeches lately — you're a gem, love <3

**Chapter 3**

 

When Lyanna woke up, the sky was painted with the pink and orange hues of dawn. There was a light throbbing on the back of her head and she blinked, trying to put herself together and remember where she was. She recalled, in a haze, Robert’s assault on what seemed the night before and then it was too much of a whirlwind. Indigo eyes. Rhaegar.

She was lying in a most comfortable bed, soft sheets and an abundance of pillows. Turning to the side, she saw Ashara sleeping next to her in a rumpled dress, her make up fading but not removed, reinforcing the idea that she had only slept for a few hours. Smiling, Lyanna turned to the other side, finding Rhaegar sleeping on a nearby armchair. He was sprawled, obviously uncomfortable, and her smile only grew. Then Lyanna bit back a chuckle as Comet stood from her position between her and Ashara, licked her face and jumped off the bed, rushing to Rhaegar and poking him with her nose. He was startled awake.

“Hey,” he said hoarsely, noticing she was up as well. “How are you feeling?”

“Like the bells are ringing in my head,” Lyanna answered in a quiet voice, sitting up and smiling as she saw her brothers and their direwolves spread around the room. Rhaegar stood up and came to sit by her on the bed.

“I’m sorry. I came as fast as I could. You probably don’t remember much of last night, but the doctor said you’re not concussed, though you’re gonna have a bump for a few days. It was a hairline cut, the wall had a bulge, but you only needed butterfly stitches. He gave Ashara some instructions to help you wash your hair today since it’s all bloodied. And he assured us that as long as you didn’t bleed again or had any headaches you’re in the clear to compete.”

“How did you know to come?” Lyanna asked, relief flooding her.

“Comet came to fetch me,” Rhaegar answered with a smile.

“Smart girl. She knows she can’t attack people here. Outside the North, people tend to be less understanding about the fact that direwolves are our best bodyguards and they only react to provocation.”

“Arthur is keeping Lord Baratheon in his room, but that can only last so long. Elia is helping my mother in the impossible task of managing my father, but we only have a few more hours. What do you want done?”

“What do you mean? What do **_I_** want done?”

“Lyanna, he assaulted you. He was clearly inebriated and he was stopped before he could do anything graver than a bump to the head, but it was assault nevertheless. Did he say what he wanted?”

Lyanna bit her lower lip, thinking on the words from the night before. ‘ _Yer gun be my qween!_ ’ Robert had said. But right after saying she was ‘his’ and couldn’t ‘run away’ with Rhaegar. What meant, anyone with half a brain could deduce, that the Stormlord didn’t meant his queen as a consort to the heir apparent.

Benjen snored loudly, looking for a new position, though he didn’t wake up. So the Prince, seeing she wanted to talk, offered his hand. Lyanna took it and he led them to the sitting room, where she immediately begun to pace.

“You shouldn’t exert yourself like this,” Rhaegar said, starting to get anxious.

But Lyanna was thinking about a thousand things. Her father insisting on a marriage she repeatedly refused with a man who was reportedly a drunk and liked to sleep around, a different top model every weekend; the absurd engagement of Brandon with Catelyn Tully, when Lyanna was quite sure they hadn’t met more than twice; Ned saying their father insisted on speaking about his reasons; then Robert’s slip up… it was a conspiracy. It had to be. The King was also reportedly erratic and some even said he was insane, so maybe the high lords were plotting to… she took a deep breath. And her father had taken the side of a drunkard. What had he been _thinking_?

“If I give you Robert, if I hand him to you in a silver platter, will you leave anyone else free?”

Rhaegar narrowed his eyes for a moment, but then his conversation with Arthur the night before came back.

“Gods, it’s… it _is_ an alliance, isn’t it? Your marriage to Baratheon, your brother’s to the Tully girl, the other Tully girl with the heir to the Vale. Isn’t it?”

“You knew already?” she asked. She had had no idea about Lysa and Elbert, but this just added to the insanity of their plot. Why would all of them elect Robert Baratheon as their champion when he was so unreliable?

“We suspected there was talk of dethroning my father.”

“Rhaegar — I’ll… I’ll do anything! I’ll testify, I’ll talk to King myself! Only: I give you Robert and you leave my father out of it. Please.”

“If it’s up to me, you will never be in the same room as my father.”

Lyanna got it backwards, though, stepping back as hurt filled her face. “Look, you don’t have to trust me, but I—”

But he raised his hand. “I didn’t mean it like that. My father is the threat to you, not the other way around.” He sighed, pressing the bridge of his nose. “The crazy thing is: I can’t blame them for wanting to oust my father.” He looked up to her. “You have trusted me more than anyone has ever trusted me just now. I could have your father’s head for what you said.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Lyanna said with a smile. “I implied it and you grasped the meaning because you were already aware of it.”

“Suspecting, actually. But the point is that I’m going to trust you as well.” He took a steadying breath. “I myself want to dethrone my father. I’ve had psychiatrists and psychologists and neurologists examine him unknowingly and they have all declared him clinically insane. He is not fit to be king. But our laws don’t have any mechanism to deal with that. So I have to rise in rebellion against the Iron Throne myself.”

Lyanna gasped, taking in his words and their implications. “Oh. But… you’re… you’re going to go to war?”

“I want to avoid that as much as possible, actually. If I have enough of the high lords on my side, then there won’t actually be battle, only a political coup.” Then he chuckled. “I wanted to… sorry, this will sound all kinds of wrong.”

“No. Tell me. Please.”

“Promise not to take this the wrong way?” he asked, blushing.

“You are scaring me, Rhaegar.”

He smiled at her stubbornness. “Despite my saying that I wanted to marry for love, Arthur reminded me I would need another alliance. Unless I fell in love with the daughter of a lord paramount, preferably a warden. An hour later, I met you. And yesterday, you ran away with my heart.”

“Is that your way of proposing, Your Grace?” she asked with a smirk.

He laughed now. “I don’t want to pressure you, Lya. You said yesterday you didn’t want to get married and I respect that. But I did… however mad it may sound with how quickly it happened, I fell in love with you. I’m in love with you, Lyanna Stark. And I can’t deny marrying you wouldn’t solve a handful of political problems for me.”

She laughed as well. “Well, my Prince, you should work on your wooing. You leave a lot to be desired.” She stepped up to him. “Old Nan sometimes spoke of lovers written in the stars,” she said with a low voice, as if it were a cherished secret. “That the gods made the first humans with four arms, four legs, and two heads. But they grew too powerful, too smart, and so to punish them, the gods split them in half, condemning each soul to spend eternity seeking its other half. But once these new humans found their soulmates, it was instantaneous and unmistakable.”

“I like that legend,” Rhaegar said, bumping his nose with hers.

“I do too,” she said. “Yes, by the way.”

“Yes?” he asked, distracted by her proximity.

“I’ll marry you.”

Then their lips met and the room was silent save for their heavy breaths.

 

* * *

 

Jon Connington was feeling pretty good about himself that morning as his jet landed at the Harrenhall airfield. He had been the one to review Rhaegar and Elia’s marriage contract three years ago, since his prince didn’t trust Tywin Lannister even then, so he was already aware and had bookmarked all the potential red flags for the dissolution, including the absurd clause on illegitimate children being equalled to legitimate and included in the succession. Besides, Jon wasn’t blind and he had known their marriage was going to fail even before it begun. Rhaegar and Elia were ill-matched and Jon wished his friend had heeded his warning before their marriage. But Rhaegar had given in to his father’s pressure, to the heavy responsibility of continuing the Targaryen dynasty with a ‘worthy’ woman so he had decided to not wait.

But now they were getting a divorce. Jon had been ecstatic when Rhaegar had asked him to draw up the papers and he had never written a contract this fast in all of his career. But since the papers were ready, they could be signed promptly and Elia wouldn’t even need to return to Dragonstone after the Olympics.

Now Rhaegar would be free to look for someone worthy of him, someone who deserved his greatness. Well, too bad there was still the pressure of producing heirs, but then again, they all needed to accept some social constraints in exchange of the privileges they were born with. So he emailed both Rhaegar and Elia as he left King's Landing, saying when he would be landing and checking if they would be available to talk over breakfast. He was now on his way to Rhaegar’s rooms, being led by a page through the old castle — still melted in an eternal reminder, but refurbished to be able to accommodate all of the incoming guests for the games every four years. Elia had answered she would be delighted, though the Prince hadn’t said anything, but Jon was certain Rhaegar would be most eager to have his marriage over and get himself a bit of freedom.

So it was with a smile that he waited for the page to open the door to Rhaegar’s apartment. But then his smile died and his chin fell open in shock. It seemed that in the week since they had last seen each other in the Red Keep, a lot had happened and a lot had changed. Rhaegar was to a side of the sitting room, but what was shocking was that he wasn’t alone. He was currently kissing down the neck of some tart he had hoisted on the back of the sofa. The girl had wrapped her legs around the Prince’s hips, her hands tangled in his silver hair as she threw her head back and moaned with his kisses.

“Rhaegar!” Jon exclaimed once his shock weaned, startling them.

The Prince jumped up, surprised, pulling away from Lyanna as he felt her trying to untangle her fingers from his hair. “Jon!” he called out of breath. “I… I didn’t… I wasn’t expecting you!”

“Clearly,” the lawyer said derisively.

Lyanna set her feet down, blushing, and jumped from her perch, though Rhaegar kept her standing in front of him.

“I thought you were in King's Landing,” the Prince said. “You said you didn’t want to come to the games.”

“Didn’t you get my email last night?” Jon asked, setting his briefcase on the table.

“Too much was happening last night. And how remiss of me, Lady Lyanna Stark, may I introduce Lord Jon Connington, Lord of Griffin’s Roost, a close friend and my lawyer.”

“A pleasure, my lord,” she said with a smile that the man didn’t return.

Jon could now extrapolate enough of the situation. She was a Stark, so a daughter of the Warden of the North most likely. And it seemed she had drawn Rhaegar into her clutches already, seduced him into bed if she was in his room this early clearly wearing last night’s clothes. His friend was too trusting, Jon thought. Always falling for people’s manipulations.

“Should I presume you got the divorce papers, Jon?” Rhaegar asked. The shock had begun to cool him down, but Lyanna made his blood boil in a way he had never experienced before, so he was having a hard time to wrestle his body back under control.

“Yes,” Jon admitted begrudgingly. Had Rhaegar told all his plans to this girl?

“Good. Then you can…”

The door opened again and Rhaegar wanted to curse. Could his morning get any more uncomfortable? And it had started so well! Elia stopped short, raising an eyebrow, but then she smirked at Connington’s displeased face — given how Rhaegar was still half-hiding behind Lyanna and how they were both blushing and with kiss-swollen lips, she could guess what the lawyer had walked in on.

“Lord Connington, good morning,” she said. “Hello, Rhaegar, Lyanna. Are you feeling better, my dear?”

“Aye, Elia, I am. Thank you.”

“Nonsense,” the Princess said, waving her hand dismissively. “Rhae, your father is still sleeping, but Stannis Baratheon is already rounding. Apparently, he was denied entry to his brother’s room and it didn’t take much more than a second to realise there were three guards on the doors, so he wants to know why Robert is under guard. We won't have long.”

“Well, this looks like a party,” Arthur said, coming into the room and seeing the group inside. “Jon, I thought you were supposed to be in King's Landing.”

“Just flew in,” the lawyer said curtly, curious about what had happened.

“Well, welcome,” Arthur said though his tone was not very welcoming. “Are you better, Lyanna?”

“Aye, Arthur, thank you.”

“Awesome. Rhae, Stannis Baratheon is starting to make noise. What do I say to shut him up? Or do you want me to lock him up with Robert?”

“No, no, leave him be,” Rhaegar replied. “Better, tell him I would like to talk to him this afternoon regarding Lord Baratheon’s behaviour last night and he will settle. Then if you would, invite Lord Stark for brunch.”

Arthur nodded with a huge smile.

“Make sure my father comes alone,” Lyanna said. “We don’t need to see Maester Walys’ face this early in the morning.”

“Especially for brunch,” Brandon said, coming from the bedroom, his face rumpled. “Neither of us need that bad an indigestion.”

 

* * *

 

Rickard woke up with his back screaming in agony and a sore neck. After a moment of gathering his wits, he recognised he had fallen asleep on the sofa of the sitting room. He had been waiting for his children to come back and must have given in to exhaustion.

“My lord?” Maester Walys said, coming in. “Did you…?”

“Good morning, Maester,” he greeted. “If I could trouble you for the time?”

“It’s just past eight, my lord.”

Rickard frowned. By eight Lyanna and Brandon were long awake, dressed, breakfast taken, and on the field or on their way there. ‘Sunrise is too beautiful to be missed’, his little girl insisted. He got up, trying to work out the kink in his muscles and went to her room, but Lyanna’s bed was empty and made, as if she hadn’t slept there — it was too early for the maids to have made it up already. Clenching his jaw, he checked Ned’s room, then Benjen’s and Brandon’s to find the same thing. Well, at least Lyanna hadn’t disappeared to something illicit, not if she had her three brothers with her. A knock on the door drew him back to the sitting room as Maester Walys answered.

“A message from Prince Rhaegar, my lord,” the advisor said.

Rickard ripped the three-headed red dragon seal on the envelope open and unfolded the paper with a sense of dread.

 

_To Lord Rickard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Lord Paramount of the North, and Warden of the North,_

_You are invited to brunch this morning at ten in the private apartment of the Prince of Dragonstone to discuss a matter of utmost importance. A page will be sent to escort you a quarter of an hour before the appointed time._

_Good wishes,_

_Group Captain Arthur Dayne, Personal Secretary to His Grace, Rhaegar Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone_

 

There was a second piece of paper inside and Rickard reached for it at the same time his mind raced through a thousand possibilities.

 

_Dad,_

_We’re all ok, but Lya got a bump to the head last night, so Prince Rhaegar was kind enough to allow us into his rooms and call for a doctor, since it was the closest. She’s already being her annoying self, so you don’t need to worry. We’ll see you for brunch — a family meal, so keep the Weirdo in his library if you don’t mind._

_Love,_

_Brandon_

 

“Is something the matter, my lord?” the Maester asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Rickard replied. “But it seems something is about to happen.”

 

* * *

 

Leaving Lyanna to break the news to her brothers and good-sister, Rhaegar took Arthur, Jon, and Elia into his solar. They had much to discuss and little time before it was time for brunch.

“My brothers are expecting me,” Elia said, “and I need Oberyn in a good mood if I’m breaking the news to them and asking Doran for support anyway. So if we could get the papers signed fast…”

“Of course,” Jon said, as he rifled through his briefcase with indecent eagerness. Rolling her eyes, Elia took the folder from him and reached for a pen.

“Won’t you read it?” Rhaegar asked.

“Lord Connington sent me the attachment last night. Besides, he knows if he tries to screw me over you will be furious so I’m banking on his desire to keep your trust and remain in your good graces.”

She signed and initialled in all the right places and passed the papers to Rhaegar who only passed his eyes in a light skimming as he initialled and signed as well.

“Don’t you need witnesses to validate it?” Arthur asked. “You can't validate it in a notary’s, not if we want to keep it quiet.”

“Oh,” Jon’s face fell. “Of course. This is being kept quiet.”

Elia rolled her eyes again. “Arthur, can you sign in Rhaegar’s behalf? Then I’ll bring it to Doran.”

“You need two witnesses from each side,” the lawyer said with his lips pursed. “To make sure both parties were acting free of any coercion.”

“Coercion into what?” Rhaella asked from the door.

“Mother!” Rhaegar said, jumping up from his chair. “Good! You can be my second witness.”

“What am I witnessing?”

“Our divorce,” Elia said. “And my brothers are expecting me, Rhaella, so I’m sorry to do this in a rush, but…”

“Of course, dear,” the Queen said with a smile, reaching for the pen. “Though I still wish you would rethink this.”

“Mother…”

“There’s nothing to rethink, Rhaella. Rhaegar and I are good friends, but terrible spouses. We’ll both be happier divorced.”

Still upset, the Queen signed the papers and passed the pen to Arthur, who did the same. Then Elia took the folder and stood up.

“I’ll have Doran and Oberyn sign and then bring it back for you, Lord Connington. I must go now. Through I do wish to be invited to your next wedding, Rhae,” she said. “She’ll make for a beautiful bride!”

The Prince smiled and kissed her cheek, watching her leave before he sat back on his chair, finding his best friend smirking and his other friend and his mother very confused.

“About that…”

 

* * *

 

“Getting married!” Brandon exclaimed. “You’ve been driving us all crazy with your _refusal_ to get married and now you want to marry the fucking Prince of Dragonstone after one week of meeting him?”

“Well, you should take it as an indication that it was the groom I objected to and not the institution of marriage,” Lyanna said, flinching. “And keep your voice down, would you.”

“Here,” Ashara said, giving her a painkiller and some water. “I am thrilled, Lya! I think and Rhaegar are a superb match!” Brandon snorted, huffed in annoyance, and stepped away.

“Are you sure, Lya?” Ned asked. “You and Prince Rhaegar have only known each other for a week.”

“Well, if you want to get into it, I’ve known Robert Baratheon — as your friend — for years and I’d rather throw myself from the Broken Tower than marry him, so I guess time is not a helpful factor in this comparison.” She finished the whole water bottle.

“So you’ll marry in a sept or in a godswood?” Benjen asked. “And will you finish school?”

“Of course I’ll finish school, dummy! And I suppose we will have two ceremonies, since Royals marry at the Sept of Baelor. Because I'm not forgoing a marriage in front of the Old Gods.”

“And you will be a princess!” the youngest continued, amazed.

“The next Queen of the Seven Kingdoms!” Ashara said.

“People said that about Elia Martell,” Brandon said derisively. “What does she have to say about this, anyway?”

“As they are signing their divorce papers right now, I fail to see how that matters,” Lyanna answered grumpily. “She is the one who asked for the divorce and last night she said she was happy for us.”

“You shouldn’t have agreed to this without talking with Dad first, Lya,” Brandon insisted.

“Robert let slip enough last night that I can gather Dad’s ‘reasons’. Rhaegar knew about it already, by the way, so if anything, I’m cleaning up Dad’s political mess.”

“What? Rhaegar knew? About what?” Ned asked.

“Dad had a notion to take part in a political coup,” Lyanna revealed. “That’s why Bran’s marrying Catelyn Tully, I was to marry Robert, and Elbert is supposed to marry Lysa Tully. What were you all thinking, Bran? Because you would never have agreed to marry that lacklustre trout if you weren’t in on the whole plot. And to choose Robert as your champion! Honestly, could you have chosen someone any less reliable?”

Brandon sighed, coming back to join the table. “I voiced exactly that, but apparently Robert is charismatic when he wants to be and if you remove the Targaryens, House Baratheon is the one next in line. They are trying to get Tywin Lannister to agree to have Edmure Tully and his daughter, but the man won’t yield.”

“Aye, Rhaegar said Tywin wants Cersei to marry him, he’s wanted that for years,” Lyanna said. “The point is, and I need you all on my side because we all know Weirdo Walys is going to try to convince dad to keep on Robert’s side, and remember: this is Estate secret!”

“You can trust us, Lya,” all three brothers declared.

“Rhaegar wants to retire his father and take the crown, since the Mad King is not fit to rule. He needs the high lords on his side. So we need to convince Dad to take part in a different political coup.”

“I suppose I'm the one here who knows Robert the most,” Ned said with a sigh. “He’d be a terrible king. Honestly, I know he can be charismatic, but I would have thought his flaunted behaviour with women would be enough to raise a red flag. He doesn’t know how to handle responsibility. And after last night…”

“People have been suffering under the dragons for too long, brother,” Brandon said. “The Mad King is erratic. The other day he commanded the servants of a whole wing of the Red Keep to be searched — intimately searched — because something disappeared and he was sure a servant had taken it and hid it inside their bodies in order to take it outside the castle. And that’s just the latest. Let’s not get to the whole issue of his arbitrary judgments.”

“You’re forgetting they have dragons, Bran,” Lyanna said. “And just how did Aegon Targaryen conquer Westeros again?”

“They only have three dragons left, sister,” the man said.

“Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya conquered Westeros with three dragons,” Lyanna pointed out.

“And the only one of their dragons who is big enough to be worrying is Rhaegar’s,” Brandon continued. “The second is barely bigger than our direwolves and the third is as big as a household cat. Besides, they weren’t planning open battle.”

But Lyanna felt an underlying uneasiness at his words. “Can we just… can we just convince Dad and try to keep him from involving Weirdo? After his insistence with the whole Robert thing, even after I showed article after article proving that he’d be the worst husband in the realm, I just can't trust the man.”

“Fine,” Brandon said as Benjen and Ned agreed. “I’ll admit that there is something very weird about him, the way he looks at the wolves and all. Now we just need to convince Dad to support a different king!”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who read this and had a kind word, either regarding the story or myself. Haters are only pitied here.  
> That said, this is a short fic, which is why everything is going to happen super fast. If you like yourself a good slow burn, you will be disappointed.  
> I'll love to receive any love and kudos from all of you :)


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the competitions begin in Harrenhall, the political plot thickens.

Wearing the victor’s crown, Lyanna faced the long line of photographers who wanted her picture. Ashara had tidied her hair as best she could in the little space between dismounting, giving Winter into Hullen’s hands, and the podium. Lyanna had needed all of her self-control to keep from jumping into Rhaegar’s arms in the excitement of the victory, but Westeros — and, most importantly, King Aerys — was watching and they had to keep their relationship secret. But she could see she wasn’t the only one struggling when he came to place the garland in her head and give her the trophy, his indigo eyes shining.

“Winter roses?” she asked quietly as she bent down for him to place it amidst her dark locks.

“I never doubted you,” he replied just as quietly. “Congratulations, Lady Lyanna!” Rhaegar returned to his normal tone of voice. “In the name of our King, I commend you on your victory.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said.

Maege, to her left, barely waited for the Prince to walk away before stepping up the podium to hug her friend, happy with her own silver medal. The bronze medal, a Dornish girl, was stone-faced and vanished into the crowd the moment she could. But now Lyanna wouldn’t be able to avoid the press. The vultures were gathering already, all anxious for the first quote and picture from the first ever female show-jumping winner. She was amenable, kind, and smiling, remembering the advice Queen Rhaella had given her the day before, but by the middle of the throng she started to feel more than overwhelmed.

“Lyanna!” Elia cut in through the mass of people. “My dearest, I wanted to congratulate you in person!” Then she checked around. “That’s enough for now, isn’t it, gents?” Elia didn’t wait for a reply before starting to lead Lyanna away. “Come, my lady, you have to enjoy your victory. Though I warn you, my little brother, Prince Oberyn, has been dying to meet you since I told him of your prowess!” Elia continued making small talk as they walked down the bridge and back to the main building of the castle.

“Thank you!” Lyanna said when they were alone.

“Not for this, dear,” Elia answered with an easy smile. “Though I’m afraid this will become your reality.”

“I know,” Lyanna said. “It’s just… they can be too much at once. We don’t have much of this in the North. They certainly don’t come up so desperate.”

“People in the capital are fuelled by gossip and this only makes the paparazzi more vicious. I prefer the lack of this viciousness we have in Dorne as well. But they won’t give you any peace once the announcement of your engagement is made.”

“I know. I’ll have a bit to mentally prepare, though. You really don’t mind? They won’t leave _you_ in peace either.”

“I’ll be long gone to Dorne by then. Let them try to be obnoxious at Sunspear or the Water Gardens, it will be delightful to watch. Besides, I am a Martell. We are ‘Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken’.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Rhaegar was furious that he hadn’t had one single moment of peace that day. Ever since waking up with Lyanna squirming out of his arms at dawn (“sunrise was made to be appreciated”) he was drawn into one function after the next. He barely hid his annoyance as he entered his solar now, finding the Master of Whispers inside.

“Lord Varys, what news do you bring me today?”

“A good song and a bad one,” the man said with his usual smirk.

“Very well, let us start with the bad, shall we?” Rhaegar sighed as he sat at his desk.

“Someone whispered in Lord Lannister’s ears that a few nights ago a certain direwolf came into your rooms and left soon after with you and Group Captain Dayne hot in its heels. Then the whole… Lord Baratheon thing, and how you brought Lady Lyanna and her brothers in here and they spent the night. He has asked me to investigate the possibility of you taking on a mistress.”

“I am not, Lord Varys, and I won’t insult your investigative skills by presuming you’re not yet aware of my divorce.”

“You might want to ask Lord Connington to be a bit more careful with where he leaves his briefcase or what papers are in display when someone comes into his room. The other side has spies as well,” Varys said. Rhaegar sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know Lord Lannister is asking because he wants to get Lady Cersei the post, right?”

“Yes, Varys, I can guess that much. Tywin won’t give up on trying to get the two of us together.”

“Now, for the bad news…”

“Wait, this wasn’t the bad news?” Rhaegar asked.

“Oh no, Your Grace, only the prologue to it,” Varys said. Then he took a small bottle from his pockets and set it on the desk. “This is a nearly forgotten, but very useful potion. Well, it depends on whom you ask, of course. It’s been forbidden in Westeros unless the couple is legally married, unable to conceive, and both state their consent to its use. The Citadel claims that it is magic and won’t speak of it, the Seven call it the devil’s work. Its use is controversial, but effective as far as I heard.”

“What does it do, Varys?”

“A fertility potion, Your Grace. Essosi maegi will sell it and say that a woman should drink it an hour before intercourse and it shall guarantee conception.”

“Where did you find it?” Rhaegar asked with a terrible feeling.

“Cersei Lannister’s room,” the Spider replied and the Prince exhaled. He should have guessed. “I took the vial and left a dummy on its place, so she might still try to use it, unknowing it won’t have any effect. I’m sure Lord Connington has shared with you the little clause in your marriage contract about illegitimate children and their place in the succession. The clock is ticking, Your Grace. Tywin is obviously prepared to make a bold move.”

“I am aware, thank you, Varys. And the good news?”

“Oh, yes, of course. Robert Baratheon was furious when he was forbidden from leaving his room and became violent when he was denied wine. Doctors said he is going through a severe case of withdrawal and recommended rehabilitation. His brother and next of kin, Lord Stannis, has agreed to the diagnostics. When he was told, Lord Baratheon managed to knock out two nurses and severely injure a third.”

“Is the nurse…?”

“He is in the ICU now, Your Grace, it seems he hit his head on the end of a table, but the prognostics is good. However, that will mean a millionaire pay-out and a long rehab for Lord Baratheon. Lord Stannis will hold the Stormlands for at least the next six months.”

“Well, I’m sorry for the nurse, but that is indeed good news. Thank you, Varys. If you’ll be kind enough to leak Lord Baratheon’s predicament to the press, that should halt any plots in his favour and give me enough time to win their past allies to my side before they select another champion. By what Lady Lyanna implied, the maesters are the ones behind this conspiracy.”

“The Citadel has never quite hidden its uneasiness with the dragons and their magic.”

“I know,” Rhaegar agreed. “It has not escaped me that I have insisted so strongly on keeping any maesters other than Maester Marwyn away from Mele and he is the first dragon in generations to grow bigger, let alone big enough to ride.”

“The Citadel will retaliate.”

“I know. I’ll keep watch. Thank you, Lord Varys.”

The Master of Whispers left and Rhaegar let himself fall back on his chair, exhaling heavily. Time was indeed running out.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Lyanna flittered around the room, getting ready for the feast. It was to be her victory feast and she would finally be able to indulge a little since there would be no hard training until they returned to Winterfell. Both she and Winter had earned their holidays.

“Ash, where’s your make-up bag? I can’t find my mascara, can I borrow yours?”

“Sure,” the Dornish lady said, busy in front of the mirror with the concealer and a hickey on her neck. “It’s in my bag, go ahead.” Lyanna crossed the room to where their bags were and ruffled through Ashara’s. Then she found a little thing that gave her pause. “Lya? You’ve gone quiet. What is it?”

“I just… I think I… well, I don’t think, I did forget an important detail.”

Ashara turned away from the mirror and saw what her friend was holding up: her birth control pills. “Oh. I suppose you’re not on any, considering you were single.”

“No, I am not on it.”

“And you forgot about condoms?”

“I had just won the first round and we hadn’t seen each other since brunch with my father the day before, I was not thinking about consequences.”

“Well,” Ashara set down the concealer, “you could still use the morning after pill, or in this old castle I think we could find some moon tea if you want.”

Lyanna put a hand over her middle, her heart sinking. Had she gotten pregnant from their one time together? Could she take the pill or the tea if she had?

“You should talk to Rhaegar,” Ashara said softly. “You both forgot about it and if it happened it is both your responsibility. Plus, you need to talk about what comes next.”

“You’re right, of course,” Lyanna said. The Dornish fished something out of her toiletry bag and handed it over. “Why do you have condoms if you’re on the pill?”

“Because the pill loses effectiveness when you forget it for one day or when you take some kinds of medicine. Besides, I’m not ready to be a mom, so better safe than sorry.”

Lyanna laughed. “Too bad. I’m ready to be an auntie!”

Ashara exclaimed, outraged, and threw a pillow at her friend, starting a pillow war.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Jon Connington was living his worst nightmare. Just when he thought Rhaegar would be free to be happy, at least for a few months, his friend had come up with this absurd engagement to the Northern she-wolf. The Prince had explained that there had been a plot to overthrow House Targaryen and crown Robert Baratheon as the next king, but… Rhaegar could have at least waited a week before getting into another marriage.

So Jon looked up the Lady Lyanna of House Stark before actually starting on the engagement contract. Maybe if he found something on her… maybe Rhaegar would delay the wedding? Or even look for a different bride?

But his irritation only grew as the facts came to him: Lyanna was a goody-two-shoes in every single aspect he could find. She had never figured in any scandals, her school records were clean, not one major complaint from any teachers — other than the Math’s teacher notes about her lack of focus and endless compliments from the equestrian teacher.

She had been in Northern equestrian competitions from when she was ten-years-old, winning most of them and making it to the podium in nearly all. Graduated with honours and had immediately enrolled in veterinary medicine. If she had a dark side, she had buried it well. And with as crazy as the paparazzi were, Jon found it hard that she had done anything really bad unknowingly, since being the daughter of a warden afforded very little privacy.

He sighed. She might be unconventional, certainly, but it seemed she was a good person. He still doubted Lyanna would be a good consort for Rhaegar — the Prince needed someone who understood him, who was capable of being solace after hard days of handling politics. And, in Jon’s opinion, Lyanna Stark was just too opinionated and strong-willed to be any comfort.

However, Rhaegar needed to secure the North and, consequently, the rest of the alliance to ensure his safe pursuit of the throne. To have this alliance against House Targaryen continue… it was too dangerous. It might mean exile or even death to his friend and family, so Jon accepted what was necessary and begun composing the contract, resigned to the fact that his Silver Prince wouldn’t be able to have his happiness again.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Lyanna walked in the solar, finding her fiancé sitting back on his chair, his head thrown back and his eyes closed.

“Too much to worry about?” she asked.

Rhaegar sat up and opened a smile. “Nothing ails me that your smile can’t cure.”

She laughed, delighted, crossing the room and taking her place on his lap. “That is a cheap line, Your Grace. Cheaper still because I know you’re so well-read.”

“It is the purest and most absolute truth,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and feeling a sense of peace and homeness he had never felt before meeting her. “But I can see a frown in your eyebrows. You just won the very first female show-jumping Olympic gold medal. You’re forbidden from frowning.”

“I was…” She took a deep breath. “I was getting ready for the feast with Ash and then I went to get something from her bag and I realised we needed to have a conversation. Are you too busy?”

“For you? Never. Especially because I can see it’s something big. What did you find in Ash’s bag that got you so worried?”

“Her birth control pills.”

“Oh.” Rhaegar stopped for a moment. “I just… I'm sorry, that was completely irresponsible of me.”

“Well, of us,” Lyanna said. “We were both in that room.” They smiled.

“Still, I'm sorry. Not that there is an excuse for us not having this conversation before, but I… I spent the past three years _trying for an heir_. I suppose I didn’t think about birth control last night.”

Lyanna wrinkled her nose. “You make it sound so cold!”

“Let’s not go down that path, shall we?” Rhaegar said. The last thing he wanted right now was discuss the nights past, not when he had Lyanna warm and loving in his arms.

“Well, the thing is…” she started. “I’m not on the pill. And even if I start taking it today, I think it takes a few days to work and it wouldn’t work for… in case it happened last night.”

“I see. Well, I just… I suppose we could get condoms.”

“Rhae, there’s… ok, you know what, neither of us are children, so let’s be open. If I did get pregnant last night, and my calendar puts us in a damning period, there are ways we can still avoid it. However, I can’t…” she exhaled. “I can’t do it. I know we’re not married yet and I know we were keeping it quiet until you unseated your father. But I just can’t do it. We can use condoms from now on, but if I am, I'm not getting an abortion.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” he said seriously. “While I don’t agree with abortion being a crime, I wouldn’t ask you to get one. But I'm afraid we won't have as long as we thought. The plot thickens already and I'm afraid of what waiting any longer might result in.”

“What do you mean? Did Robert…?”

“Lord Baratheon is still locked up in his rooms, though he’s being shipped off to rehab,” Rhaegar said and then told her what Varys had just reported.

Lyanna saw red when she thought of Cersei Lannister worming her way into Rhaegar’s good graces, trying to seduce him, even if she trusted him and knew he’d never betray her. So she pulled him into a hot kiss, adjusting her position so she was straddling him on the chair, going for all the pleasure points she had found already.

“You are _mine_ ,” she said, punctuating it with a bite to the pulse point on his neck, making him groan with pleasure.

“My fierce she-wolf,” Rhaegar panted out, drawing her lips back to his, taking her by surprise as he stood and hoisted her on the table. Then he hesitated. “I don’t have any condoms right now.”

Lyanna bit her lip, thinking. Then she reached into her back pocket and produced a foil package. When he reached for it, she threw it out of reach, making Rhaegar turn to her with a raised eyebrow.

“Let’s the chips fall where they may,” she said with a smile. “You said so yourself, we’re running out of time, we need the advantage of Robert’s rehab to ensure Stormlands support, so call Connington and tell him to change the engagement contract into a marriage one. We can have a big party later, but let’s leave this castle married.”

“Lya… this is a big decision. Are you sure?”

“Aye. You need to dethrone you father and this mad alliance against House Targaryen will be terrible for the realm — they’re willing to crown Robert for goodness sake! Make me your wife, win the North, and let’s give this realm an heir so they will stop fighting the truth: you are the best option for Westeros.”

He opened a lazy smile. “I like the sound of that.”

“Of what?”

“Lyanna of Houses Stark and Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone, future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms,” he said. “It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“It does indeed,” she said with a chuckle, drawing him closer for another kiss.

When Rhaegar carried her back to the bedroom, uncaring about the feast downstairs that expected them, the condom remained forgotten on the floor.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Elia stared at the dark sky in front of her. Other than the lights from the castle, only the moon shone bright on the sky, bathing the land in its white glow. Rhaegar had shown up for the feast almost an hour late and whispered to her a little secret that she was dying to throw in someone’s face. She had waited half the night for this chance, waited as Lyanna took another half hour to appear, overwhelmingly beautiful in a blue dress that matched the colour of the crown of winter roses she wore as was her right as the victor.

The Dornish Princess had wanted to roll her eyes when she saw the flowers Rhaegar had chosen for the victor’s wreath: could he have been any more obvious? The evening editions of most tabloids were already speaking about it, about how the Prince seemed so taken by the Northern beauty. And Lyanna had already been dubbed the ‘it’ girl of the season: if she had wanted, she could have walked away from Harrenhall with any husband she wanted. But then, Elia thought, she was going to. Lyanna had simply chosen the most eligible bachelor of the season. Even if no one else knew he was a bachelor again.

The doors to the balcony opened and Elia focused on the task at hand as she heard the high heels click-clacking towards her: she had a little lioness to skin.

“Your Grace,” Cersei greeted. “You’ve asked for my company?”

Elia turned and caught sight of her. Cersei Lannister was indeed a beauty, deserving of her title of ‘Light of the West’. She was tall, blonde, and green-eyed, with a delicate face like a porcelain doll and a curvaceous body. But the Princess could see beyond her good looks, gorgeous red dress, and fake smiles: Cersei was rotten on the inside, a conceited and arrogant girl who imagined she was entitled the world. Well, what else could one expect from the daughter of a man like Tywin Lannister? He had probably spent Cersei’s whole life telling her she would marry Rhaegar and be queen, only to fail time after time.

“I did, Lady Cersei, I did. Tell me, how are you enjoying the games?”

Wary of the situation, Cersei smiled sweetly. “Oh, I’m enjoying it thoroughly, Your Grace. And I'm sure it’s bound to get better now. The polo matches begin in five days.”

“Oh, I'm sure you’re very excited! And I am also quite sure you’re expecting the event to turn out to be so much more.”

“What do you mean, Your Grace?” Cersei asked, sensing the threat in Elia’s voice.

“Prince Rhaegar is not your puppet, Lady Cersei. And you truly have no idea of who he is if you think he would fall for your cheap seduction.”

“My Princess, I believe…”

“Rhaegar Targaryen is an honourable man. He would never betray the trust of the woman he loves,” Elia said. Then she revealed the little bottle hidden in her hand and Cersei paled. The Dornish princess uncorked it and tipped the content over the balcony, wasting the potion into the moat. “This little bottle could land you in jail, ashamed and watching your life be over. Or worse, the King might call for your head for attempting to deceive the Crown. You should be more careful from now on.”

Elia turned to leave, thinking she had ended the other woman’s delusions, but Cersei quickly recovered from the shock.

“You can’t prove that was mine.”

“Oh, but I can,” Elia said. “It was found in your room and your credit card records put you in a very funny place where items like these are sold to those who know where to ask for them. However, if I wanted to get you in trouble, I wouldn’t have called you here and gotten rid of the proof. Think of this as a warning, Lady Cersei. You will never carry a child of Rhaegar Targaryen. Accept it and move on.”

“Or?”

Elia smiled dangerously. “Don’t play with fire, my lady. You will get burnt.”

“You can't give him heirs!” Cersei yelled, losing her self-control. “You’ve been married for three years and all you’ve given him is miscarriages. You can’t fulfil your duty to the realm. Why shouldn’t he be free to be with who he wants?”

Elia laughed heartily. “Oh, dear! You poor, deluded, misguided creature! You think you are the one he wants?”

“Rhaegar would have married me if his mad father hadn’t forbidden our love! If he hadn’t wanted an alliance with Dorne to keep you in check!”

“Gods in heavens!” Elia exclaimed, deeply shocked. “Is this what your father told you?”

“Rhaegar loves me!” Cersei insisted like a five-year-old girl.

“Rhaegar barely knows you exist, Lady Cersei,” Elia said, starting to be worried. “You are nothing to him and you never will be. He won't marry you. Please, accept that.”

With that the Princess left the balcony, rushing back to the ballroom, worried for the first time. Cersei was more deranged than any of them expected. She needed to warn Rhaegar. More, she needed to make sure Lyanna was safe from Cersei’s madness.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Arthur raised an eyebrow as Rhaegar described his plan. Then he exhaled heavily.

“This is dangerous, Rhae. If the paps get word of it…”

“I know,” the Prince admitted. “But she’ll be seen going North with her family and Ashara is going with them. Then a couple weeks later, Ash will kindly ask her pilot brother to pick her up. I’ll let my best friend borrow my private plane and no one needs to know Lyanna will be on the plane with you two.”

“Rhae, Lyanna is not one to stay locked up inside. All it takes is one person recognising her on a hallway and the secret is out. She’s just won the female show-jumping and she’s competing on the Winterfell female polo team, her picture is everywhere!”

Rhaegar huffed. “I don’t want her in the Red Keep. I don’t trust Tywin and I don’t want her anywhere near my father.”

“Odd as it may sound, until the secret is out the Red Keep will be safer than Dragonstone. All there is on the island is the Targaryen fortress, well, other than a few nice beaches. In the Red Keep, Lyanna can pretend she’s there to visit the capital and of course the Royal family wouldn’t deny hosting an Olympic champion and the daughter of a Warden.”

“Fine,” Rhaegar accepted. “I’ll ask my mother to see to arrangements.”

“We still have a few more weeks here. It’s enough time for your honeymoon phase and for you to settle all the details of your plans. You’re gonna be king in less than six months, Rhae. You and your lovely queen!”

Rhaegar only laughed, anticipation curling in his stomach.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Three weeks later, Rhaegar snuck back to his room way too early with the Finale Gala happening in the ballroom. He and Lyanna had signed the papers earlier that day and he couldn’t wait to consummate their marriage.

He found her already waiting in his sitting room, dazzling in a ballgown blue as frost, her hair half up in intricate braids and half falling down in curls, wearing the beautiful necklace with a winter diamond shaped into a rose and a shining smile. The necklace had been his wedding gift to her, he had had it brought from the family vaults in Dragonstone for the occasion: rumour had it that the gem had been the very first extracted from the mines at the Blessed Island, centuries ago, when the extinct House Starling, a cadet branch of House Targaryen, first found the mines and the rare winter diamond.

“You look… sublime!” he said, throwing his bowtie on the coffee table. She smiled and he noticed she was anxious. “What is it?”

“I did some reading online. It seems that after two weeks we can have a reliable result,” she said holding up a little box, “or we could just wait. What do you think?”

He stepped closer and read the box. Then his stomach tied up in knots. “Oh. I… honestly, I don’t… I just don’t want you to be disappointed with the result.”

“We’ve only been together for three weeks, Rhae. I might be young, but that doesn’t guarantee it will happen at the first try. Not even being late is a definitive answer. So I want to know. For sure.”

“Alright, then. Into the bathroom we go,” he said, though he had learnt, after three years, to not get his hopes up.

He leant against the sink to wait the long three minutes while Lyanna started pacing. When the timer went off, she froze and turned to where the stick lay, her anxiety showing on her face.

“Come on,” Rhaegar said, extending his hand. “We’ll see it together.”

“Together,” she said with a smile, taking his hand.

He pulled her closer and then pulled the paper from on top of the white stick. He was so used to seeing only one line that the second line seemed to shine with neon colours when he saw it. Lyanna gasped, her eyes filling with tears as her hand dropped to her middle, where their child grew safe and loved.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I hope you enjoyed this! As always, please leave kudos and your awesome comments! I'd love to know what you guys thought!


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